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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29991915">Yes, Master</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediNight27/pseuds/JediNight27'>JediNight27</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, BDSM, Degradation, Dom/sub, Domestic Servitude, F/M, Face Slapping, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jealousy, Jedi Mind Tricks (Star Wars), Master &amp; Servant, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, Name-Calling, Obedience, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Squirting, Undressing, Vaginal Fingering, Woman on Top, high protocol, mind probe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:40:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29991915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediNight27/pseuds/JediNight27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Haunted by visions of his wife's death and suspicious of his Jedi Master, Anakin Skywalker is facing dark times. Sympathetic to his stress, Chancellor Palpatine sends him a servant to comfort him through his trials.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anakin Skywalker/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yes, Master</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Welcome home, Master Skywalker.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin jumps at your sweet voice. “(Y/N)… I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, closing the door behind him slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“The Chancellor sent me,” you say with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Chancellor Palpatine?” he says, raising an eyebrow in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>You nod. “He says you liked what you saw, and he thinks my skills are better used in service of you.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>His eyes mist in recollection. He had sought a private meeting with the Chancellor, to discuss private matters that had been weighing on him. He had been deeply troubled, needing much of Palpatine’s advice, and the meeting ran late, into the Chancellor’s mealtime.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t mind if I eat, do you?” he’d asked him. Anakin shook his head no, feeling much more concerned with the topic of conversation than his friend’s passive consumption.</p><p> </p><p>But moments later, the soft sound of footsteps and the rustling of robes distracted him mid-sentence. He saw a woman approach the Chancellor from his peripheral vision, and turned to look: a beautiful girl, young and bright-eyed, set an inviting plate of food down before Palpatine. The Jedi knight’s eyes widened, roaming over her soft, feminine figure.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately, Palpatine noticed. “Anakin, this is (Y/N). She’s a wonderful cook,” he says with a sly smile. “Have you met Anakin Skywalker? He’s training to be a Jedi,” he told you.</p><p> </p><p>You turned to face Anakin directly. “How do you do?” You say sweetly, and bow.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin had mumbled a greeting in response, his eyes low, gazing at the table in front of him, opposite the Chancellor. His mind had instantly been filled with lascivious images: of you dropping the robe, revealing your smooth, naked body, standing on display for him to see, and stare he would. In his mind, he saw you walk gracefully over to him, nude, and wordlessly straddle him in his chair, right there in front of his friend, in a room where anyone could potentially enter. He wanted you to kiss him, your soft pink lips meeting his, sensually and full of desire, your fingers on his cheek, your warm body pressed close, comforting him, your femininity, already so wet and eager, leaving a damp patch on the groin of his robe.</p><p> </p><p>“Pretty, isn’t she?” Palpatine said slyly. The words had shaken Anakin from his fantasy, and by then, you had already been dismissed from the room. Anakin cleared his throat and nodded, chasing the thoughts away. “The kitchen boys certainly think so. They say she was taken as a slave on her home planet, and trained in the ways of pleasure,” he says, before taking a bite.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>All of those recent memories came back to Anakin suddenly upon seeing you standing in his dorm.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall I make you something to eat, Master Skywalker?” You ask brightly.</p><p>“Who… how did you get in here?” He asks suddenly, his tone sharp.</p><p> </p><p>You frown slightly at his harshness. “Master Kenobi...”</p><p> </p><p>“Obi-Wan?” he scoffs.</p><p> </p><p>“...Yes,” you say, a bit concerned. “I don’t have a key...” you add lamely. You shift uncomfortably; Its your first five minutes on the job, and you already feel you’re doing poorly.</p><p> </p><p>Just then, the apartment door opened, and within seconds, Obi-Wan opened the bedroom door. “Oh Anakin, I meant to tell you, you had a guest,” he said when he saw you. Anakin glared at him, but decided he would discuss it with Obi-Wan later. Obi-Wan rummaged through his robe for a moment, looking for something. “I forgot to give this back,” he says to you, holding up a folded piece of stationary. He hands it to Anakin. “Chancellor Palpatine thought you needed a guest.” Anakin gives him an icy glare as he unfolds the note and skims it’s contents.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t realize you were that unhappy with the food here,” Obi-Wan says, a twinge of suspicion in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin gives him a piercing look before speaking. “I won’t do it.” Your mouth drops in dismay. “I’m sorry,” he says turning to you. “I don’t need a servant. You’re very kind, but I’ll see you out.” He approaches you to guide you to the exit.</p><p> </p><p>“Please Master Skywalker, please don’t send me back to the Chancellor,” you blurt out. He pauses, and cocks his head slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Has he harmed you in any way?” Asks Obi-Wan, arms folded across his chest, a concerned look on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“No sir,” you say, shaking your head. “But…” You twist your hands, searching for the right words. Obi-Wan looks to Anakin, raises an eyebrow, and looks back at you, a sense of understanding unfolding in front of him. “I’m just a simple girl, I started in a diner. Serving a Jedi would be a tremendous honor.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Chancellor isn’t just asking you to cook for me, (Y/N). He’s asking you to housekeep, to…” Anakin looks around the room. “To live here, away from all your friends in the Chancellor’s kitchen.” You stifle a wince at that pointed remark. You realize rumors about your past have reached the Jedi. “We’re not supposed to have attachments to people,” he tacks on lamely.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan cocks his head. “She seems to really want to do the work, Anakin. From the council’s point of view, it’d be no different than having a droid-”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s not a droid, she’s a person,” Anakin spits, turning on his heel to face him. He takes a step closer to Obi-Wan. In a low voice, he tells him, “I used to be a slave, Master. I won’t take one.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan nods. “Then that is a conversation you’ll need to have with your friend, Palpatine. In the meantime,” he says, opening his arms to you warmly, “please stay with us, at least for the night.”</p><p> </p><p>You smile wide, thrilled at the sliver of possibility. “I’d be honored to cook for the both of you still, to show my gratitude.”</p><p> </p><p>“The food here <em>is</em> boring,” Obi-Wan says, looking to Anakin.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose I could try it,” he says. <em>It’d give me a more valid reason to deny Palpatine’s offer,</em> he thinks.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>You run your hand over the smooth, bare breast, feeling along the center for the bone. Master Kenobi wasn’t lying when he said that the provisions in the kitchen were slim. Luckily, you came prepared with a cache of special ingredients. You were hoping to save the succulent Endor chicken for a special occasion, but you only had this one opportunity to make a lasting impression. Your knife glides through the meat, and in a few quick, skilled strokes, the breasts are off the bone. As you twist a wing, an old feeling of uncertainty churns in your gut. <em>You have to prove yourself. </em>The urgency echoes in your head and you focus hard on the bird. <em>You have to be worthy of Master Skywalker.</em> Wings. Breasts. Legs. Thighs. You perfect all eight pieces, and hoped it was enough.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin and Obi-Wan sat at opposite ends of the table. The younger man sat, twiddling a stray curl, staring icily at nothing. Obi-Wan could understand his brooding. “You seem unhappy with this gift,” he asks his padawan, pouring himself a glass of water.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you. I don’t want to own anybody,” he said. <em>Own.</em> That was a loaded word for him. Hard memories flashed in his mind, recollections of the lack of his own freedom, being under the control of another. However, those thoughts were coupled uncomfortably with a twinge of curiosity, the <em>power </em>of being the one with all the freedom, the ruler that subjugates. A shiver went down his spine, and he shook the thoughts away, quickly-before Obi-Wan could sense them, or worse, chastise him for them.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “I fear something bad will happen to her if we turn her away, Anakin. What if Palpatine no longer wants to employ her?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t trust the Chancellor?” Anakin asks, leaning forward with interest.</p><p> </p><p>“Not any less than you do,” Obi-Wan says slyly.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation stops as you come into the room, carrying two steaming plates. You place one in front of Master Kenobi, and the other in front of Master Skywalker. As you set the food down in front of him, you watch discreetly from the corner of your eye for any reaction.</p><p> </p><p>“Looks great!” says Obi-Wan, his eyes brightening. “What’s in it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fried Endorian chicken, soaked in buttermilk and hot sauce, dredged in flour, seasoned with salt, pepper, cayenne, paprika, and thyme,” you say nervously. Anakin’s face is motionless as you speak, as if you’d set a bowl of rocks in front of him. Your confidence falters immediately; you stifle a frown.</p><p> </p><p>He picks up a small metal ramekin filled with golden liquid that you’d tucked into his plate. “Whats this?” he asks, sniffing it.</p><p> </p><p>“Garlic honey…” you mutter.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s delicious!” Obi-Wan says. He had drizzled it all over his pile of chicken and was munching a piece.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin taps his ring finger into the honey, the golden fluid sticking to his flesh. He licks it off slowly, his eyes fixed on you. He sticks his fingertip in the honey again, and offers his finger to you. “Lick it,” he commands. You’re taken aback, but you’re in no position to refuse. You want to work for Master Skywalker, and honestly, he was easy on the eyes. His bossy tone sent a delightful shiver down your spine, one that you hadn’t expected. You bend over gently and gently suck the tip of his finger. You look up at him with wide, questioning eyes. Anakin’s eyes are focused on you, cold and steely. Obi-Wan watches curiously, his eyebrow raised.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that how you meant for it to taste?” Anakin asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Master,” you say shyly, dabbing the corner of your mouth.</p><p> </p><p>His blue eyes study you for a moment wordlessly, before taking a bite of chicken. You assess him silently, hoping to get an impression of what he’s thinking, but you find yourself distracted by his full lips, red and plush, wrapped around the juicy, tender flesh. The crunch of the skin as he bites down sends a surprising shiver down your spine. All the while, his eyes are fixed on you, and you feel undressed, naked and exposed as if this wasn’t just a job, but something… more. Like a sensual invitation.</p><p> </p><p>You wait until he finishes that piece, the leg bone picked clean. “Is it to your liking, Master?” You ask, unable to gauge his feeling and internally agonizing.</p><p> </p><p>He slowly licks a glistening finger, sucking a clinging dab of sticky honey off. He licks the flavor off of his lips, the brief flash of his pink tongue tantalizing you. Your heart quickens just a bit in suspense, but then he smiles. “Yes,” he says simply. “I think it is.” Your heart feels like it could burst in delight, and you try your best to hide a beaming smile, under the guise of professionalism.</p><p> </p><p>“(Y/N)?” Obi-Wan says.</p><p> </p><p>The tone of his voice snaps you out of it. “I’m sorry, Master Kenobi.” You say, embarrassed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Come again?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiles kindly. “Join us,” he says, gesturing to a seat at the table.</p><p> </p><p>You glance at Anakin, looking for permission. After all, you’re there to serve him, and follow his instruction, not Master Kenobi’s. But the Jedi says nothing, his face hard and critical at Obi-Wan, and he picks up another piece of chicken. You slide down uncomfortably into the seat nearest you, stuck between them. Obi-Wan kindly slides his plate towards you, expecting you to share with him. Outwardly, nothing has changed, but you suspect your potential new employer doesn’t like that very much.</p><p> </p><p>“So, (Y/N), what was it like working for Chancellor Palpatine?” Obi-Wan asks casually, picking up a piece of chicken.</p><p> </p><p>You get a few words out about the general pleasantness of the experience before Anakin interrupts you. “Did you eat with the Chancellor?” He asks curtly. You feel caught in the headlights, unsure how to respond.</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin,” Obi-Wan hisses.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you eat with him?” He repeats, a little bit slower, adding a fearful emphasis by doing so.</p><p> </p><p>“I… No, Master,” you say.</p><p> </p><p>“So why do you think you can eat with us?” He asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin!” Obi-Wan repeats, appalled.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t say…” you begin, but Anakin raises his eyebrow and tilts his head, his expression chastising you immediately. You decide it’s best not to make him think you’re blaming him for anything, so you clear your throat and start over. “I’m sorry, Master.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go to your room,” he commands simply in a terse, calm voice. You rise immediately; unsure where “your room” is, you wait, instead, in Master Skywalker’s bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>At the table, Obi-Wan is incredulous. He gesticulates for a moment in shock, his mouth agape. “What has gotten into you?” He says finally. Anakin responds with a glare. Obi-Wan sets his elbow on the table and hides his face in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Haven’t you had enough meals with my wife?” Anakin spits.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan looks at him hard, with narrow eyes. After a moment he says, “I think you need to meditate.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin clenches his jaw, his nostrils flare, and he pushes his chair back, storming off.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>You hear heavy footsteps approach from the hall as you sit on the end of Master Skywalker’s bed, your hands folded in your lap, thumbs twiddling. The door opens suddenly, and there he is, tall and ominous and electric, as if a tempest is raging inside of him. He pauses for a moment upon seeing you.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I told you to wait in your room.”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t know where my room is, Master Skywalker,” you say softly as you stand in respect. Something about Master Skywalker makes you nervous.</p><p> </p><p>He takes a step towards you, making your heart race. “As long as you work for me, never come in this room without my permission, do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Master Skywalker,” you say immediately. But then the words sink in. <em>As long as you work for me.</em> Does this mean he’ll keep you?</p><p> </p><p>“What did the Chancellor ask you to do for me, exactly?” He asks, slipping off his robe. His intense gaze makes you quiver.</p><p> </p><p>“I-” you begin, but his undressing is distracting you. The robe hid much; despite being fully clothed still, you have a better perception of hard, lean body, sculpted from countless hours of intense lightsaber training. You force yourself to refocus. “I cook, I clean, I… comfort,” you say, still distracted by the raw beauty of the man in front of you.</p><p> </p><p>“Comfort?” Anakin says with a laugh. “So its true, what the kitchen boys say?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” you snort, turning cold. “Those are cruel rumors.”</p><p> </p><p>He glares at you briefly before charging forward, grabbing you by the jaw. Your knees buckle a little, frightened for just a moment. His thumb runs sensually over your jaw, melting you. He breathes out slowly through his nose, his breath warm on your cheek, as if releasing all of his tension. He’s inches from your face, and those steely blue eyes are frigid. All of this happens in a moment, and he quickly pulls away. “My God, I’m sorry” he says, turning away, raking his fingers through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright Master,” you say, composing yourself. “It’s not my place to reprimand you.”</p><p> </p><p>He faces you again. “I…” he trails off, shrugs, and slumps down onto the edge of the bed, exasperated, his arms hanging down between his knees. Gently, you sit down close beside him and lovingly begin to rub his back.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright, Master,” you say. “Really.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighs. After a moment, he looks at you, loose curls framing his face. “Really, how was it working for the Chancellor?” He asks, concerned.</p><p> </p><p>“Very decent. He never touched me, I wasn’t his pleasure maid,” you feel the need to emphasize. Working for the Chancellor was a great opportunity, but the thought of him desiring you makes you want to vomit. “I was just a cook, and a housekeeper. I was hardly his favorite girl, anyway,” you say with a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s hard to believe,” Anakin says, placing his hand on your knee.</p><p> </p><p>His touch makes you feel hot, and your heart races again. He gives you slight smile, and you feel your core melt. His mouth is a pleasure in and of itself, his lips are vibrantly red, plush and kissable. Your faces are close together again, and you’re tempted to lean in, and feel those soft lips on yours. The thought of <em>Master Skywalker</em> desiring you? That made you tingle all over, like a craving you could never possibly satisfy. You blush, and this just makes him smile wider.</p><p> </p><p>He cups your face in his hands, your hair silky in his fingers. “You <em>are</em> a good cook,” he says, his eyes moving over your face, assessing you. “And I could use a good friend.” He considers the thought for a moment, those eyes getting hazy with thought. “Would the Chancellor consider you trustworthy?” He asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” you say with pride.</p><p> </p><p>He looks into your eyes for a moment, questioning. The Force tells him of your trustworthiness, but it also betrays your desire. He smirks. “If you work for me, nothing I ever tell you can be repeated, to anyone. Especially not Obi-Wan. Do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Master Skywalker,” you say obediently.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” he says with a smile, his voice dripping like honey with pleasure at being called Master, especially this often. “Now, I can’t just take your word for it. You’ll have to prove it to me. Don’t talk to Obi-Wan, at all. He can be quite nosy.” You nod, your cheeks brushing against the warm, callused flesh of his hand. He trails his finger over your cheekbone and down your jaw with the cold metal of his right hand, the temperature contrast sending a delicious shiver down your spine. He senses your attraction, and this delights him. But he’s suddenly reminded of his wife, and he pulls away. But the image is chased by that of Obi-Wan, and his doubts flare in him once more. He bites back bitterness, his nose flaring again.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright, Master? You ask gently, concerned.</p><p> </p><p><em>Why shouldn’t I? </em>Echoes in his head. Padme certainly has friends, nothing stopped her from getting “friendly” with Obi-Wan, his own Master. A greed flares in him, the desire to possess you, to have one thing for himself he doesn’t have to share with or inform of his wife, his master, the council. <em>Why shouldn’t I?</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Because you used to be a slave. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He slumps over, his head resting on in his metal hand. You rub his back again, your concern deepening. He looks up at you, piercing you with those intense eyes as you touch him. After a moment, he asks, “Do you want to work for me?” A genuine question, as opposed to an offer.</p><p> </p><p>You smile. “With pleasure, Master.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Pleasure.</em> That’s certainly something he hadn’t gotten enough of in a while. “It’s your choice. You can go at any time, if you’re unhappy here. You’re not my slave.”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand. It’d be my pleasure, Master Skywalker,” you say, with a wide smile.</p><p> </p><p>He cracks a smile, too. “You’d have to buy your own supplies. Our kitchen is very limited.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I can manage that, Master.” You’d much rather see him smile. When he does, the grin is so bright, and the agony behind his eyes softens into wonderful humor. “Anything you like, Master, I’ll do for you. I aim to please.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bet you do,” he says, running a hand over your hip. “In fact, lets prove it. Stand up.” You rise, expectantly. “Kneel,” he says. You fall to your knees, hands placed calmly in your lap, looking up at him. “On all fours,” he commands, his voice low, a twinge of uncertainty lurking. But you surprise him, and immediately assume the position. He smirks, and cups your face. “Good girl,” he says lowly, his thumb stroking your cheek. He sits back proudly, hands flat on his knees, assessing you. “Stand,” he commands again, and you do. A smile spreads over his beautiful red lips. “Now take off your robe.” Without question, your eyes locked on his, you undo the belt and let your simple brown robe fall off your shoulders and down to the floor. His eyes drink you in, loving every soft curve. You’re relieved you had worn nice satin lingerie—you had it on to boost your confidence secretly throughout the day, never expecting it would be on display for your new employer. Anakin smiled self-indulgently, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. “Take them off,” he says, keeping tight control over his voice, letting his expression betray his true feelings. You gaze back at him obediently, careful not to shy away from his watchful eyes as you unhook your bra and drop it to the floor. You pause for just a second, allowing him to stare at your bare chest, before you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and pull them down, leaning forward as you do so he can get a better view of your breasts before straightening up, fully nude, on display for him. His eyes linger over every curve, down the slope of your breasts, over your firm nipples, over your waist, around the curve of your hips and thighs, soaking in the sight of your bare femininity. Slowly, finally, he looks you in the eye. “Good girl, not covering yourself,” he says, his low, masculine voice sending a delicious chill up your spine. “Now come to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Without hesitation, you walk towards him and slowly envelop yourself on his lap, breasts inches from his lips, bare thighs spread over his, hands placed tenderly over his shoulders, bringing the fantasy from when he first saw you to life. He purrs in delight as you straddle him, his hands roaming over your waist and up your back, warm skin a pleasure to the touch. His lips brush against yours, lush and soft, his breath soft and sweet on your skin, sending chills roving over your bare flesh. You try to stifle a faint moan, your wetness spreading over his thigh, the dampness soaking through his Jedi uniform to tempt his bare skin. He lingers near your lips, hands touching your face, but his eyes are closed and he’s hesitating. You sense an amorphous push-pull in him: it’s not that he doesn’t want it, but there’s something under the surface that you can’t quite make out, pulling him back. As difficult as it is, you pause, and remind yourself that you’re there to serve Master Skywalker however he needs and specifies—and not a shred more.</p><p> </p><p>You swallow your desire and run your hands over his shoulders, as if brushing away your own growing need. “Shall I help you get dressed for bed, Master Skywalker?” You ask sweetly, poorly masking the throbbing ache in your core.</p><p> </p><p>He opens his eyes, looking fondly at you, and that warm smirk spreads over his lips again, melting that internal disconnect in him away. “Yes, that’d be nice.” He gives you a little spank, signaling for you to stand. You follow him to a full-length mirror, where he stands looking hard at his own reflection. You try not to let your eyes linger too obviously and instead immediately begin working on the belt around his waist. You stand behind him, not obstructing his view, reaching around his lithe torso to unfasten the belt. As you pull it off, you feel a hint of his smooth stomach. The fabric feels luscious against his firm muscles, and you hide your face behind his body so he can’t see you blush in the mirror’s reflection. Folding the belt and setting it aside, you reach for the hem of his tunic to pull it up. He raises his arms, the muscles in his upper back flexing as he moves. As the fabric inches up, the peachy skin of his stomach becomes more and more exposed, starting with a whispering trail of coarse pubic hair, to well-defined abs, to a beautifully carved chest. Master Skywalker is taller than you, and generously takes the bunched up fabric from there and pulls it up over his lean, fit arms. You stare longingly at his muscular body, feeling a hot desire blush over your cheeks. He catches you playing coy and smirks at you in the mirror as he hands you his tunic, still warm from being close to his skin. You fold it and set it on top of the folded belt before moving on to his pants, the last garment he has on. That hot flush on your face is undeniable now as he stands in front of you, watching you in the mirror as you stare, aching with desire, at his hard, fit body, bare torso exposed. You tuck your fingers into the waistband of his trousers, lingering for a second before slowly pulling them down over his firm thighs, the soft hair of his legs brushing against your bare skin, teasing you. Your attraction is undeniable now, written plainly over your face as the Jedi stands in front of you, covered only by boxers, his raw masculine beauty on full display. You didn’t know a Jedi could be so handsome.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you like it?” He asks, a bit smug, as he looks at you, blushing pink, in the mirror. His metal hand slides casually over his smooth stomach, drawing your attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Master,” you say, smiling in playful embarrassment. You stretch out a black nightrobe and he slides his hands in. You stand on your tiptoes to reach his shoulders, and as you pull the garment up, you notice every toned, defined muscle in his arms and back. As the fabric comes up over his shoulders, he turns his head to face you, giving you that sly, knowing smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, (Y/N). You’ve done very well,” he says. You didn’t think it was possible, but your cheeks burn even hotter at the praise. “This is how I want you under your robe at all times, you understand?” He asks, eyes running over your naked body once more. You nod, exhilarated at the request. As you say goodnight, you’re determined to be the best, most worthy servant Master Skywalker ever could’ve asked for.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Anakin! How are you liking the gift I sent you?” Palpatine asks.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin sits on the edge of his bed, bare chest exposed in his nightrobe, his head hanging dejected as he talked to the Chancellor via hologram. “It was… unexpected. I don’t know what to make of her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Has she displeased you?” Palpatine asks.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin shakes his head. “No, far from it,” he says with a weak laugh. “She surprises me. Her cooking is wonderful, and she’s…” he clears his throat. “She’s lovely. But, something about this feels wrong. I’m a Jedi, we’re not supposed to have attachments to people…” he starts.</p><p> </p><p>“A weak rule filled with nonsense,” Palpatine says. “Are you not attached to your Master, Obi-Wan? Does the Jedi council not feel a distinct bond with one another? The Jedi are so few that to deny strong connections would be… unreasonable,” he suggests. “If this woman were your padawan, would you have these feelings?” He adds, giving Anakin pause. “You can train a woman to negotiate, to fight, to use weapons, to kill if absolutely necessary, and that would be praised as your duty,” the hologram voice explains. “But if a woman comes to you to be trained in other areas, providing cleanliness, comfort, and friendship, this would be considered ‘indulgent?’” The hologram chancellor scratches his chin in thought, letting the words sink in. “I disagree,” he says simply.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin looks away. “Something about her feels different. She feels like something I’m not allowed to have.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Something forbidden,” he says darkly.</p><p> </p><p>“No man is an island, my friend,” Palpatine says. “Your most trusted Master Kenobi, does he not seek the comfort of those who care for him, such as Senator Amidala?” Darkness roves over Anakin’s face as he considers the words. “It is unreasonable to expect yourself to stand alone, Anakin. She’s a trustworthy confidant, a loyal worker, and a beauty. You need some soft pleasures after the life you’ve had,” he adds sympathetically.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin lay in bed after the hologram, considering what was said. He knew what the Jedi code was, and knew he wasn’t living up to the standard that had been set. However, that hadn’t stopped him before, given his secret marriage to Padme. Padme, who he loved more than anything in the world. But even the thought of his wife had been tinted with a frost, a coldness he couldn’t thaw after those horrific visions. And Obi-Wan was no comfort. Every time he saw his Master the doubt crept in, and gave way to vile emotions. Everyone he was supposed to love made him feel a vile jealousy he couldn’t contain.</p><p> </p><p>And then this woman randomly appeared, soft and feminine and promising to be all his.</p><p> </p><p>Could it be possible to have something all to himself? He loved his wife, but her duties as a senator preoccupied her passionately. Plus, the shade of his visions of her death made his stomach churn with fear, as if his insides were made of ice water. To think she no longer loved him… that she might even love Obi-Wan instead… these thoughts swirled around in his mind. He covered his eyes with his metal forearm, but the feelings persisted, and the anxiety grew. His Master who, with his Master Qui Gonn Jinn, had snatched him away from his mother like thieves in the night, and he’d lived the remainder of his life having been expected to be <em>grateful.</em> To be <em>thankful</em> to the man that had altered his life so dramatically, sometimes for the better, but sometimes for worse. And the specter of fear, the jealous nausea of the thought that his Master had possessed his wife, whom he coveted more than anything in the world… what else would Obi-Wan steal from him?</p><p> </p><p><em>She promised me she wouldn’t speak to him,</em> he thought, recollecting what he’d asked you. Was it possible you’d fulfill your promise? Flashes of memories from Tatooine filled his mind, working in the heat, his mother worn ragged with fatigue, masking her pain with weary smiles. And he’d been forced to leave her behind for this “better life”--his wife potentially deceiving him with his “dearest friend”, all while Obi-Wan preached about detachment and restraint. He sighed in exasperation. Restraint wasn’t his forte.</p><p> </p><p>Was it possible for him to have something all for himself? The Chancellor had sent you to him in kindness, you’d vowed not to say a word to Obi-Wan, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Padme. But most persuasive of all was that, when you were there with him, he felt peace. Not the lingering threat of Obi-Wan hypocritically possessing more of his beloved while admonishing greed, not the horror of losing Padme and potentially living without her, but <em>peace,</em> a calm serenity he hadn’t felt since that first trip to Naboo. <em>It’s just like training a padawan,</em> the thought echoed in his head. And how exactly could he train you? The ways presented themselves in his head. You seemed obedient and attentive, eager to call him Master and bow to his authority—you revere him with a respect he felt hard pressed to earn and scarcely received from others. But recalling the desire in your wide eyes, the warm softness of your flesh, the demanding wetness from you soaking through to his thigh, and the silent anticipation, the patient waiting for a directive or command—he could train you to his specific pleasures, delights he could never disgrace his wife with and emotional freedoms Obi-Wan would never grant him.</p><p> </p><p>Padme reminded him of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan reminded him of Padme and the council. The Jedi Council reminded him of failure.</p><p> </p><p>You, you reminded him of pleasure. Pleasure, and nothing else.</p><p> </p><p>He knew it was wrong, but the curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to probe your mind, to see if his swirling thoughts were on the right track. Your room was right next door to his, and he expected you to be fast asleep, dreaming of exotic spices or your friends and family. He was quite surprised to see that you were awake, breath shallow and needy, your fingers moving over your slick, saturated core. And your mind, of course, was filled with erotic images of him. In your room, you were laying on your simple cot, legs spread open wide, two fingers of one hand swirling around your throbbing clit, two fingers of the other tracing your slippery entrance, prodding in and out slowly, teasing yourself. Your nipples were sharp and firm topping the round, soft mounds of your breasts. Anakin smiled, blood rushing down to his cock, pleased to see he had such a strong effect on you. And nowhere in your mind was Obi-Wan.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, you were imaging him, your Master, seated beneath you on the edge of his bed with yourself naked and straddling him, as you’d been earlier. Only this time, your arms were tangled around each other, bodies pressed in close contact, mouths hungrily kissing as if devouring a passion long lost. He could feel you relishing the pleasure of your bare nipples against the rough fabric of his Jedi tunic, and your naughty awareness of your greedy wetness soaking through his pant leg to his bare skin. You pictured him cupping your face as he kissed you hard, delighting in the contrast of warm flesh and cold metal on your skin. You craved the feeling of his erection growing beneath you, pressing into you, teasing you with a growing need. In his room, Anakin couldn’t deny himself that same pleasure, his hand sliding over his flat stomach and slipping into his waistband to grip his stiffening cock. His hand moved in long, indulgent strokes as he gleefully intruded on your private fantasy.</p><p> </p><p>In your mind, his metal hand squeezed your breast, and he rolled your nipple between his fingers as he bit down on your neck. You imagined squirming in pleasure on top of him, overstimulated by his skill. But his flesh arm snaked around your waist and metal hand gripping your tits would keep your firmly planted on top of him, subject to his desires. And it was that whisper of obedience, that craving for servitude to him, that coaxed Anakin further. He knew he’d be in so much trouble if Obi-Wan found out—but this wasn’t about him; <em>you</em> weren’t there for him. You were there for Anakin.</p><p> </p><p>Biting his lip in selfish indulgence, he dared to project an image into your mind: he wanted you to see him pulling away from your neck, that metal hand he knew you loved sliding up to squeeze your throat. In your mind, you quiver and gasp, and in your bedroom, your core throbs, aching with pleasure. The thought of him choking you is sudden and unexpected, but delightful, and you feel yourself getting wetter at the thought. In his room, Anakin growls, fist pumping over his dick, pleased with your response. He decides to push it further: he projects the image of two flesh fingers slipping into your wet mouth, and two metal fingers slipping into your warm, quivering cunt. You moan, both in your mind and out loud, at the image of being double stuffed by his skilled fingers. Anakin snickers as he hears your faint moan through the thin walls, and grips himself tighter, a warm flush of pleasure burning through his manhood. You image sucking his fingers, feeling them explore your tongue and throat, as his metal fingers spread inside of you, stretching your stubbornly tight cunt. The thought of the metal hand teasing you makes your pussy gush, and you slip a third finger inside yourself easily, desperate to be filled the way Anakin is filling you in your mind.</p><p> </p><p>Pleased with your response, he dares to go further: he projects the image of his fingers slipping out of your mouth, coated with spit that clings to your pouty lips in long tendrils, and reaches under his waistband, pulling out his long, thick cock, rock hard and desperate to feel you. In your room, you whimper and moan at the sight of it, surprised by just how big it is and how inviting it looks. In the other room, Anakin takes your reaction as praise and smiles smugly, stroking that long, beautiful cock, knowing you’d have an even better reaction if you got to see it for real. He forces you to image those wet fingers wrapped around your throat once more, metal hand still working your needy cunt, a fierce look burning in his eyes. “Beg for it,” he commands, his voice low, keeping his eyes intensely on yours as you whimper and squirm under his strong grip. He pushes his metal fingers in and out of you in quick, rythmic pumps. “Beg me to fuck you,” he growls.</p><p> </p><p>“P-please, Master…” you say, your voice soft and breathy and needy.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” He spits.</p><p> </p><p>“Please fuck me, Master, I need it,” you whine. In his room, Anakin’s cock throbs at your compliance; he bites his lip, eyes rolling back in pleasure as he strokes, trying to tame the sudden urge to release.</p><p>But he’s not finished with you. “Why should I?” He snaps sarcastically, shaking you slightly by the throat. Your toes curl at the thought of him handling you roughly. “Why should I fuck your filthy cunt? Huh?” He demands.</p><p> </p><p>Your tongue lolls out of your mouth slightly as you feel yourself get even wetter at his assertiveness. You moan eagerly, his masculine abrasiveness doing wonders for your pussy. You feel supercharged, particularly sensitive and eager for his coarse, dominant demands and stern expressions as much as for his thick cock and skilled fingers. “Because I’m… desperate for it, Master… Please…” You breathe.</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re a slut,” he snaps, giving your throat a little squeeze. “You want me to fuck you because you’re a greedy, filthy slut. Right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Master,” you moan, feeling your pussy grip his fingers in pleasure. “I desperately want you to fuck me because I’m an eager little slut,” you repeat.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you are,” he says, slipping his fingers out of your cunt and sucking the flavor off of them. Your pussy quivers at the sight of the slick, shiny metal being licked by his tongue. “And you’re my slut, aren’t you?” He adds, teasing you with his intense eye contact.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Master Skywalker,” you purr. In his room, Anakin’s breath was shallow, and he had to slow his pace or else he would bust too soon, pushed to an erotic limit at your reverential preference towards him. He bites his lip, indulging in the electric sensations all over your body as your squirm in pleasure in the next room, unaware that he knew, that he was manipulating your body and mind from a distance.</p><p> </p><p>He could feel you reaching your limit as well, and forced you to imagine what it would be like as he gripped his cock with those shiny metal fingers and pushed the tip into your sensitive, wet cunt. He can feel your pussy twitch at the thought, your fingers working in and out of the slippery hole, fingers swirling over your throbbing clit, feeling like you could break into a powerful orgasm at any minute. You’re breathing hard, skin tingling, nipples sharp and sensitive, desperate to feel your new master make you cum hard. He snickers at the private image of your needy desperation, and forces you to imagine him plunging his cock balls deep, impatiently and selfishly. You moan in intense pleasure, feeling his thick dick stretch you to your limit. He gives your throat a coaxing little squeeze, biting his full bottom lip and he looks down at your perky chest, breasts on display and available to him. His eyes move down so he can watch himself thrusting in and out of you, his cock slick with your pleasure.</p><p> </p><p>“Such a good girl, begging me,” he says mockingly, laughing at you succumbing utterly to his powerful skill. You ride him limply, dazed and overcome by how full he feels inside you, his strong grip on your throat teasing you. Your eyes are hazy and your tongue lolls indulgently out of your mouth, overwhelmed with the warm pleasure of him dominating you, body and mind.</p><p> </p><p>He’s such a good fuck you can’t handle it.</p><p> </p><p>But Master Skywalker is egotistical, and happy to pick up your slack if it means he can maintain that intense, almost sadistically pleasured reaction from you. He bucks his hips, pumping his cock rapidly in and out of your wet hole, the skin on skin making a perverse squelching sound as he fucks you. He can feel the shiver up your spine, your expression even more overcome and helpless, at the complete mercy of the unbearable pleasure he gives you. “Is that what you wanted, slut? Huh?” He says, gently slapping you with that metal hand to bring you back down to Earth just enough to answer, all the while railing you with his juicy, thick cock.</p><p>“Yeeh… hnnnh… mmmf…” you moan, disoriented.</p><p> </p><p>“Answer me, you fucking whore!” he snaps, shaking you again.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes, Masterrr,” you whine, barely able to form words he feels so good.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this what you wanted? A big Jedi cock to rail your desperate little cunt?” he says mockingly.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Y-Yeah…” you moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He slaps you again. “’Yes.’ Use proper language when you speak to me. You understand me?” He snaps.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes, Master,” you whimper. You could cry you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure. The way he fills you, grips you, speaks to you, is all better than you ever could’ve hoped for. You’ve never been fucked like this by anyone, anywhere in the galaxy. “It’s so… big… Master…” you pant, and slump over his shoulder, fucked limp, overpowered by how good he feels.</p><p> </p><p>But he’s not finished. He only plows you harder, eager to feel you obey him fully. “We’re just getting started, slut,” he hisses in your ear, his hands roaming over your body, scratching down your back and firmly gripping your ass before squeezing you close so you can’t escape, no matter how intensely your squirm. And Anakin certainly knows how to make you squirm. You moan as he goes full force, his dick pumping into your cunt faster than you ever thought possible. You can hear him slide against your wet pussy in a slick, slapping sound, the fabric of his Jedi uniform teasingly rubbing against your bare nipples, your sweat and pussy juice effectively ruining his clothes.</p><p> </p><p>“M-Master…” you whine into his ear. He only laughs, a cocky grin on his face as he rails you into oblivion.</p><p> </p><p>In your bedroom, you’re overpowered by the intense, vivid ‘fantasy’ of him. You’ve never experienced this much pleasure before in your life, didn’t know it was possible to feel so utterly possessed by somebody and their carnal delights. Your legs begin to tighten and your heart as racing as you feel yourself getting close. Anakin, in his room, can feel it too, which only urges him along. His hand moves slowly and cautiously in long, measured strokes, eager to last until the very end, and definitely longer than you.</p><p> </p><p>To get you there first, he makes you see him command it. “You like this big Jedi cock, slut?” He asks, bouncing you in his lap forcefully as you’re slumped over his chest and shoulder, run ragged.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes, M-M-Master….” you barely make out, and you feel your pussy tighten in firm grip around his long, thick shaft as you say it.</p><p> </p><p>“Be a good little whore and cum all over it, then,” he commands lowly in your ear, your matted hair brushing softly against his nose and jaw as he spits the words out. “You be a good fucking slut and do what I say or I’ll send you back to Palpatine so crumpled and useless you’ll never ‘work’ for anyone again,” he says with a laugh. You feel your whole body tighten, tensely wound like a coil ready to spring at his erotic admonishing, at his threat to possess you and be pleased by you wholly, or else. His cock works hard in your cunt, eager to feel your orgasm as he laughs at you. “Aw, that would be awful, wouldn’t it?” He says in a fully condescending, mocking voice before laughing again. “Heh, a real tragedy. Then the kitchen boys <em>really</em> couldn’t fuck you.” Your hips buckle, cowering under the erotic degradation, his pointed insults making you vulnerable to his pleasure, to him fucking you raw in his superiority. He snickers again. “You’re a fucking liar. Those kitchen boys practically lined up to fuck you. And you’re such a filthy whore, you fucked every single one.”</p><p> </p><p>In your room, you’re amazed at ‘yourself’ for having thought of revealing that to him, but it only heightens your pleasure, and you know you’re close. Your fingers work rapidly over your cunt, desperate to feel what you know will be an incredible release. And Anakin is eager to help you along. “Aw, what? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” He says in that fake compassionate tone, harsh and condescending, full of arrogance. “You stupid fucking slut,” he says, pounding you so hard, you feel your whole body tense up and shiver, unable to control the tide you feel coming. Anakin feels it to, your pussy clenching hard on him in warm, erotic pulses, tempting him to let you finish. Your complete mental erotic anguish pleases him, and he knows what he says next is just what you needed to hear:</p><p> </p><p>“Jedi can read minds.”</p><p> </p><p>The projected vision fades, because in his room Anakin knows your real life reaction is what he wants to see, and like a good girl, you deliver immediately: your clit is worked to its absolute limit and you cum hard, in warm, wet pulses, squirt flowing out between your fingers, your hand clasped firmly over your mouth to stifle what was meant to be silent but turned into a powerful scream. You shudder onto your fingers, your pussy convulsing at what you had ‘imagined.’ Your breath hitches in your lungs and you shudder as you cum, your pussy pulsing, back arched, nipples tingling in needy, vulgar satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>The view of you was worth the wait and the teasing and the breaking of the rules. Seeing you in your room, cumming hard and screaming for him while you’re supposed to be asleep, vulnerable and manipulated under his influence, pushes him over the edge. He stops restraining himself and his long, slow strokes turn into rapid, short pumps, eager to feel as good as you did from his mental suggestion. In a few short jerks, his head falls back on the pillow, eyes shut, biting that red, pouty lip as he cums, milky semen flowing over his fingers, spurting out onto his stomach where it pools in the soft grooves of his abs, matting his pubic hair. He rubs his thumb over the tip, wiping off the last of his release and smearing it down the length of his still-hard cock with his fist, indulging in post-climax shudders.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, after sleeping peacefully and filled with warm comfort, your mind is buzzing. <em>Did I imagine that? How did it get so dirty? Can Jedi really read minds? Or is that a Sith thing? Did I make that up, or hear it somewhere? Or is it true…? </em>The last thought has implications too far reaching for you to consider. If Master Skywalker knew your past, he might reject you, and you could lose your position with him, shamefully returning to a seemingly prestigious position working for the Chancellor where everyone called you a slut and implied that your job was not based on merit, or that it was even culinary. You didn’t want to go back to that. You wanted to make a name for yourself, and the Jedi were few and amazing and… honestly, really hot.</p><p> </p><p>You frown at yourself. Maintaining composure around Master Skywalker would be challenging. You could only hope that your mind just got carried away, and that he wouldn’t treat you any differently. You write off his request for you to sit nude in his lap as a one-off: Jedi could have sex, you heard, but no attachments, so it shouldn’t mean anything. Still, you wonder how you can quickly remove the stain of your feminine juices from the sheets before your Master finds out.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p><em>It’s not like I cheated. I didn’t touch her, really. I could’ve fucked her if I wanted too.</em> These thoughts run through Anakin’s mind the next morning. He also slept blissfully, comfortably exhausted in body and mind after his devious excursion into your fantasies the previous night. But he gave himself pause. Why was he being loyal to Padme, when he feared, deep down to his soul that she was not paying him the same respect? <em>With my Master. My “friend.”</em> The word seared in his mind, and a vile rip of hate coursed through him. But then he softened: not once, at any point in the previous evening’s romp, did Obi-Wan flicker through your brain. Never. Not a hint, not a whisper, not an image, nothing. You were utterly focused on him, obsessed and absorbed and eager to please. It was exactly what he wanted. <em>When have I ever been treated like that?</em> He considered. The council didn’t grant him his desired rank, his “brother” was potentially railing his wife, who didn’t seem to miss him at all on his long missions. He recalled your softness, your feminine aura and your availability. And most of all, your devotion to him. A warm fondness for you touched his heart. <em>I’ll keep her around,</em> he decided. <em>But I shouldn’t have used the Force like that.</em></p><p> </p><p>A short time later, he leaves his bedroom and enters the kitchen, where you’re steeping beans for coffee. You blush red hot when you see him, and try to hide your face with the hood of your robe. “Good morning,” Anakin says knowingly, a sly smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Good Morning, Master Skywalker,” you say sweetly, straining to sound normal but your adoring eyes giving you away. That smile on his face hints at something, and your knees buckle at the hot recollections of the night before.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan comes out of his room a moment later. “Good morning!” he says to everyone. “Morning,” Anakin grunts before looking questioningly at you. Like a good girl, you say nothing, smiling sweetly at your Master, batting your eyelashes at him. He makes a note of your obedience and is pleased.</p>
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